Come Down with Love
by Tragedy Catalyst
Summary: The Doctor is sick, but with what, he doesn't know. These clammy hands are getting on his nerves, though.


**Title:** Come Down With Love

**Author: **TragedyCatalyst

**Written On:** May 10, 2011

**Word Count:** 815

**Characters: **Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness (mentioned)

**Pairings:** Rose x Ninth Doctor

**Author's Note:** Inspired by the song "Come Down with Love" by Allstar Weekend. Though the Ninth Doctor is so rough on the outside, he's such a sweetie when it comes to Rose, as is apparent throughout the first season. Though his head is still full of the horrors of what he had recently done and lost, I can see him trying to wrap his mind around growing feelings for a certain Pink and Yellow human, but not quite catching on.

**Summary**: The Doctor is sick, but with what, he doesn't know. These clammy hands are getting on his nerves, though.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Doctor Who, kthnxbai.

_"I've come down with love_

_Got bit by the bug_

_I'm sick and I feel confused_

_I know it's true_

_I've come down with love_

_I can't get enough"_

* * *

><p>There was something wrong with him. There was most definitely something wrong with him. He ran a leather sleeve over his furrowed brows, mind whirring through all of the possibilities. True to his name, he went through his symptoms.<p>

Trouble breathing recently, though luckily his respiratory bypass took care of that. He was in tip-top shape from all of the running he did on a daily basis, so why would his lungs be failing him?

Irregular heart beats, in both. At times they would skip beats, and at others they would be pounding so furiously, they might just jump out of his chest.

Flushing of the skin. The blood would creep up his neck, slowly but surely, to turn it an embarrassing shade of cherry. He normally hid this by pulling his jacket collar up a bit.

Clammy hands. Rassilon, he hated having clammy hands. He had to keep wiping them on his jumper or his trousers, and it was just undignified.

Maybe he was coming down with a fever, though that seemed highly unlikely due to his Superior Time Lord Biology. Time Lords don't get fevers.

But that didn't explain his recent difficulty concentrating and overall absentmindedness. Not that he let Jack or Rose catch on about any of this. When they would end up in a different time period than he had planned or even an entirely different galaxy, he covered his initial shock well and pretended as though this had been his intent from the beginning. Sometimes Jack would catch him "zoning out" in the library or the kitchen, and he would deny it all, walking away in a huff. The truth was that he was getting lost in his thoughts more frequently lately and they weren't even memories of the War or of the people he had lost or even about anything science-y. More times than not, his mind was stuck on the present in a haze of pink and yellow. All he could seem to think about was- Maybe he did have a fever.

The Doctor rested his forehead against the cool glass of the time rotor, listening to the beautiful song of his long-time companion. It was relaxing, it was comforting, it was... making fun of him.

He stepped back, blinking in indignation. "Now hold on here a moment."

Rose paused in the doorway of the control room, tilting her head at the scene before her. The Doctor had his hands on his hips and was... arguing with himself? Every now and again he would wave his hands before him and glare. Jack had warned her that he was behaving strangely lately, but this went beyond that. Deciding to intervene, she stepped forward. "Doctor?" She called out carefully.

He froze mid-finger wag, mouth open to retort. Here it came, increased pulse rate, the blood rush, the pink and yellow fuzziness. He closed his mouth and wiped his hands on his jumper. He opened and closed his mouth a few more times before managing out a smooth "You're not asleep."

"No, I'm quite awake. Are you alright, Doctor?" She slowly walked towards him, almost afraid that he might run away.

"Course I am. I'm always alright." He managed a faint smile, sweat beading along his hairline.

"You don't look alright," she stopped in front of him, worry etched into her pretty features, "In fact, you look like you need a doctor yourself." The Doctor froze as Rose lifted a hand to gently run the backs of her fingers down his cheek. "You're really warm."

"It's kind of warm in here, isn't it?" He wanted to hit himself for that comment. Of course it wasn't. The TARDIS was always at a perfectly comfortable twenty-five degrees celsius.

"Are you sick? Can Time Lords get sick?" She was still stroking the side of his face, looking him straight in his blue-blue eyes.

"I'm not sick. I haven't gotten sick since I was a hundred and twelve years old."

" Eight hundred years later seems like a high time for that record to end." Her hand fell away and he instantly missed the softness of her touch.

"I'm not sick, Rose." He stopped himself from reaching out and bringing her cool hand back up to his too warm skin.

"Course not. I'm feeling kind of knackered though, seein' how I'm not asleep and all. So how 'bout you keep me company while I go get a nice hot cup of tea, then we just spend a relaxing day floatin' in the Vortex. Then tomorrow we can get back into the whole runnin' for our lives routine, yeah?"

He just nodded, staring at their linked hands as she led him to the kitchen. Rose didn't seem to mind his clammy hands. Maybe later he would go to the infirmary and enter his symptoms into the TARDIS' database and finally figure out what he was sick with.


End file.
